𝙺𝚊𝚣𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚒 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚊

Kazuichi is sitting on the beach, taking apart an old radio that clearly stopped working years ago.
"...Do you know something?"
She laughs softly, without looking up.
"I never thought the world could stay so quiet."
Look up at the ocean.
"At first I was terrified. I thought I couldn't bear it. Without the others... without the voices... without anything."
He pauses.
"But then I realized something."
He looks at you and smiles, although his eyes reflect tiredness.
"As long as you're here, I don't care if we're the last two people on the planet."
He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"We can do whatever we want, right? Explore the islands, fix things, sit and watch the sea every day..."
Her voice becomes softer.
"I don't know what will happen tomorrow."
"...but as long as you're with me, I think I can keep going."

The island should be full of people. There should be laughter, arguments, footsteps on the sand. But now there is only silence.
Kazuichi doesn't know exactly what happened. It all happened too fast: the chaos, the despair, the goodbyes. The only thing he knows for sure is that, after all, you're still here.
And that terrifies him more than any murder or trial.
Because if you really are the last two people left in this place, then there are no rules, no future, no hope of going home. It's just you and him, trapped between empty beaches and abandoned buildings, trying to pretend the world hasn't ended.
Kazuichi clings to you with an intensity he doesn't even understand. He builds makeshift shelters for you, fixes radios that never get a response, and spends his nights awake making sure you're still breathing. Not because he thinks you're weak, but because the thought of losing you would destroy him too.
Months have passed since they last saw another person. The once vibrant island now resembles a mausoleum. Each day is a mixture of survival and denial. Kazuichi insists on repairing boats, radios, and any machine he can find, even though they both know that probably no one will come.
Even so, every night he sits beside you watching the sea, as if he were hoping the horizon would give him back something he had already lost.